Diamonds, Dowries and a Murder (A Darcy & Elizabeth Who Dunnit)
by KrissyWylson
Summary: Lydia has eloped with Wickham to London. With Darcy's assistance, Mr Gardiner has found the couple and Mr Bennet has agreed to the monetary demands of Wickham to secure Lydia's marriage but before the wedding day arrives, someone is found murdered, jewels are missing & a family member is arrested. Can Darcy and Lizzie solve this mystery and restore honour to the family name?
1. Chapter 1

London; Wickham and Lydia

Wickham and Lydia paused by the - and Son's Jewelers on Smyth Street and Lydia entreated him to enter. "Oh dear Wickham we must look at the wedding rings. We must. I can't go home to Longbourne without a ring on my finger to show the sisters. She giggled effusively – cant you just see their faces when I dazzle them with my beautiful engagement ring and wedding band all encrusted with diamonds. Oh GEORGE _please_ let's look!

Wickham took a deep breath and smiled benignly at her while the face of Elizabeth played before his eyes. Beautiful, charming Elizabeth. If he had been going to entangle himself with one of the dowry-less Bennets – would that he had continued courting that playfully charming second eldest daughter instead of this puerile girl. Elizabeth clearly had brains as well as beauty and would certainly have been able to better help him advance his career opportunities. Blast that Darcy – refusing him his living! A frown furrowed over his brow causing Lydia to fuss over him like a mother hen over her chicks.

He brushed her hand away from his face while addressing her irritably "Very well, if we MUST get you a ring, let's look shall we?" Oblivious to his irritation Lydia gave a little hop and pulled him behind her through the doors into the extravagant looking establishment.

Lydia paused, slightly awed by the glamour of the interior of this fashionable jewelry store and then quickly sidled up to a case where several gorgeous rings twinkled and sparkled. Excitingly she squealed "Oh WICKHAM! Do look at this beautiful emerald. It's ever so much bigger than the ring that old prig Collins gave Charlotte. Mama would be so proud to see that on my little finger. She twirled her fingers in front of Wickham's face and laughed loudly.

With great disdain written across his face the only unoccupied clerk quickly strode across the room to them and almost hissed "How can I be of assistance to the madam and her gentleman?" He looked down his nose at them causing Wickham to blush at the scene Lydia was causing. For not the first time he greatly regretted that reckless decision to allow her to drag along with him when he absconded from the -shire military the week prior.

Wickham smiled his most charming smile at the clerk and clearing his throat said "Might we look at that emerald ring in the center of this showcase please.' Sensing a serious buyer, despite the ridiculous female at his side, the clerk quickly unlocked the case and pulled the ring out for Wickham to look at. Lydia grasped at it but Wickham quickly whisked it out of her reach; tut tuting and winking at the clerk. "Now Miss Bennet" he purred – "mind your manners – let me first decide if this is even worth you trying it on." This elicited more giggles out of Lydia.

He studied it carefully as if looking for any possible flaws while in truth Wickham's mind was racing; 'There is no possible way we can afford this ring or even one 10th of its value But that widow - Mrs. Jansen certainly has such a beauty. I saw it resting on her bureau when I delivered that letter from Mrs. Young last night. It could do quite nicely as a wedding ring if Darcy can actually come up with that dowry and enough to pay the debts owed back in Meryton and Brighton.'

Wickham's charming smile turned to a sneer as he passed the ring back to the clerk. "Here, what are you playing at my good man! This ring is clearly flawed. I certainly would not consider it for my lady's dainty finger. Come Miss Benson, there is a much more reputable business up the road. Let's check them for a more suitable ring for you.

Lydia giggled her agreement "La! Wickham, lets. And maybe we can stop at the finery shop and get some new ribbons for I'm sure my mother is already choosing my wedding trousseau and I MUST have new ribbons for my new bonnet to go with it.

Only too glad to distract her from jewels and diamonds he steered her out the door whilst the clerk looked on in bewilderment and astonishment at the sudden change in his customer.

 **Longbourn**

Sitting in the quiet garden well away from Mrs. Bennet's nerves, Mr. Bennet passed their uncle's letter to his daughters and bade Elizabeth to read it to them.

"Read it aloud," said their father, "for I hardly know myself what it is about."

"Gracechurch-street, Monday, August 2.

My Dear Brother,

At last I am able to send you some tidings of my niece, and such as, upon the whole, I hope will give you satisfaction. Soon after you left me on Saturday, I was fortunate enough to find out in what part of London they were. The particulars I reserve till we meet. It is enough to know they are discovered; I have seen them both—"

"Then it is as I always hoped," cried Jane; "they are married!"

Elizabeth read on:

"I have seen them both. They are not married, nor can I find there was any intention of being so; but if you are willing to perform the engagements which I have ventured to make on your side, I hope it will not be long before they are. All that is required of you is to assure to your daughter, by settlement, her equal share of the five thousand pounds secured among your children after the decease of yourself and my sister; and, moreover, to enter into an engagement of allowing her, during your life, one hundred pounds per annum. These are conditions which, considering everything, I had no hesitation in complying with, as far as I thought myself privileged, for you. I shall send this by express, that no time may be lost in bringing me your answer. You will easily comprehend, from these particulars, that Mr. Wickham's circumstances are not so hopeless as they are generally believed to be. The world has been deceived in that respect; and, I am happy to say, there will be some little money, even when all his debts are discharged, to settle on my niece, in addition to her own fortune. If, as I conclude will be the case, you send me full powers to act in your name throughout the whole of this business, I will immediately give directions to Haggerston for preparing a proper settlement. There will not be the smallest occasion for your coming to town again; therefore, stay quietly at Longbourn, and depend and my diligence and care. Send back your answer as soon as you can, and be careful to write explicitly. We have judged it best that my niece should be married from this house, of which I hope you will approve. She comes to us to-day. I shall write again as soon as anything more is determined on. Your's, &c.

Edw. Gardiner."

"Is it possible!" cried Elizabeth, when she had finished.—"Can it be possible that he will marry her?"

Jane looked at her and their father in astonishment. "So Wickham is not so bad as we thought if he is actually to marry her."

"I only wonder at his willingness to settle for so little." replied Mr. Bennet.

I have to ask two questions; how much money your uncle has laid down to bring this engagement about; and the other, how I am ever to pay him."

"Money! My uncle!" cried Jane, "what do you mean, Sir?"

"I mean that no man in his senses would marry Lydia on so slight a temptation as one hundred a year during my life, and fifty after I am gone."

"That is very true," said Elizabeth; "though it had not occurred to me before. His debts to be discharged, and something still to remain! Oh! It must be my uncle's doings! Generous, good man; I am afraid he has distressed himself. A small sum could not do all this."

"No," said her father, "Wickham's a fool, if he takes her with a farthing less than ten thousand pounds. I should be sorry to think so ill of him in the very beginning of our relationship."

"Ten thousand pounds! Heaven forbid! How is half such a sum to be repaid?" gasped Elizabeth. Mr. Bennet left them to ponder this puzzle as he returned to the house to write his reply to his brother in-law. The business of enlightening their mother of the _good news_ he also left to their capable hands.

 **London and Mrs. Young's boarding house**

Lydia flopped herself down in the chair beside the unmade bed and waved her hands at the pile of dirty dishes on the table before the window through which a slight breeze blew. "Darling dearest" she wheedled "WHEN is Mrs. Young going to send a maid for these dishes. La but my feet hurt" she yawned as she stretched her toes – kicking off her now worn slippers. Wickham, knowing the few shillings he had paid Mrs. Young would not cover a whole month of boarding AND housekeeping chided – "Take them down yourself for Lords's sake, There's the tray, take them to the kitchen and leave them there. "

"You needn't be so cross" Lydia groused at him but she gathered up the crockery anyway suspecting that perhaps they were not as flush with money as he had lead her to believe the night they left the -shire.

Not wanting to know the truth of their circumstances she changed the subject as she slipped her slippers back on whilst balancing the tray on her hip. "Well – make the bed then if I'm to drag these dirty old dishes to the kitchen – _I'm_ certainly not the maid here, am I?" With which she flounced out the door with Wickham kicking it shut behind her.

Rather than making the bed he flung himself down upon it and began to map out just how he might get his hands on that stunning emerald ring along with the glamorous ear rings and matching necklace he caught a glimpse of the other night. He knew just where he could pawn these pieces and the sum they would fetch would not only be enough to pay Mrs. Young another weeks lodging but would be enough to pay off his debt to Private Evans and keep him away from here. And actually if he could get his hands on some of the finer pieces in Mrs. Young's private parlour- he might even be able to avoid this whole catastrophe of a wedding! He glowered at the memory of seeing Evans following them as they whiled the hours away today on - street. Lord, but Lydia could talk a man's ear off. Sighing deeply in the warm heat of the room, the pleasant breeze lulled him to sleep as he enjoyed the first silence he'd had all morning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Introducing Lt Evans** **(CHAPTER 2)**

Lt Evans paced back and forth in the shadows of number 5 Edward Street, the house he had seen Wickham enter with that chit of a girl Lydia Bennet. Lord, what possessed George to take up with that flirt he would never know. He pulled back deeper into the shadows when he heard the creak of the front door open. He watched a rather elegantly dressed woman descend the stairs and alight into the carriage that was apparently waiting for her. She briefly gave instructions to the driver and then the carriage headed north. His eyes squinted as he pondered on who had just departed and wondered how many such well dressed women might reside within this graceful home. He casually stepped out onto the side walk and strolled past the front gate, pausing slightly to read the name on it. _Bettermans House_. He then continued to stroll along the street with his hands casually clasped behind his back. Where had he heard that name before? Hadn't Wickham alluded to it at one of their many card games? Dam the man. Wickham owed him close to a month's salary - almost enough to clear his own debts of honour. He rounded the corner and picked up his pace as he made his way around the block. Despite being a fairly well to do neighborhood, he did not think his strolling along would catch anyone's attention. Populated with several boarding homes in what had once been an aristocratic neighborhood there were many people seen coming and going, including not a few gentleman callers.

Evans snapped his fingers as he recalled the occasion Wickham had mentioned Bettermans house and his failed elopement. Wickham had rather been in his cups that night. Evans grinned as he recalled how well he had done that evening and then grimaced at the thought that that had been his last night of winnings in quite some time. So _this_ was infamous home of Mrs. Young. If he understood correctly; Wickham and she had been more than a casual acquaintance. How should he introduce himself to the doorman – as a potential boarder or simply a peer of Wickham's wishing to leave his card for the "gentleman"? He did not want Wickham to disappear before he could collect the debt owed him. Once he was able to pay off his debt – it was a simple matter of borrowing the cost to purchase his captain's commission. His general had heavily alluded that he was just the chap to fill that vacancy, especially if he could advance the monies before next month. He would not allow himself to think of the consequences if he could not pay off the debt of honour still owing.

More quickly than he intended he found himself before Bettermans house front gate and without any further thought opened the gates, strode up the front steps and rang the bell. He reached in his front pocket and pulled out a slightly wrinkled calling card and nervously attempted to press it smooth as he waited for the bell to be answered. He heard light foots steps alluding that a doorman would not be answering. Perhaps this establishment was not as prosperous as the outside embellishments indicated.

The door opened and he saw a pretty young face framed in light curls and a maids cap. The young girl curtsied to his bow and she allowed him in without a question for the reason of his calling at this time of evening – much to his pleasure and surprise. She smiled and indicated to him that he should wait for Mrs. Young in the front parlour. He passed through the doors and made his way to the warm coals burning brightly in the fireplace. For June the night had been rather cool and he was pleased for a chance to warm his hands before the fire. He took in the lavish furnishings and made mental note as to the fine silver candle sticks as well as the plush rug his aching feet stood upon. He puzzled more as to his excuse for calling on Mrs. Young. He heard footsteps treading lightly down the hallway and quickly decided to he was there to inquire as to whether this might be the place for his future brother in law to stay while in town a fortnight from now – that a good friend Mr. George Wickham had suggested her establishment to him. Yes, that should work very well he decided, especially as he just happened to have his future brother's calling card in hand to leave rather than his own which the young maid had forgotten to ask for.

He turned to face Mrs. Young as she strode into the parlour with a decided business like attitude and stretched out her bejeweled hand to shake with his. Startled, Evens halted his bow and extended his hand as well.

"How may I help you?" She smiled at him.

His warm smile returned hers as he produced Samuel's card. "My… uh _brother_ will be spending a month in town a fortnight from now and as I was in the area I offered to inquire as to the possibility of Mr. Carothers rooming here."

Mrs. Young nodded to an armchair near the fire and she suggested they have a quiet drink while they discussed terms. In the distance he could hear a door open and close and, yes, that was clearly Lydia's childish giggle he heard on the stairs. Mrs. Young's eyes narrowed at the sound. He was grateful when she quickly closed the door. The last thing he needed was Lydia recognizing him and squealing the knowledge of his presence to all and sundry.

His eyes greedily took in the numerous treasures decorating the parlour as well as the ear rings adorning his hostesses' delicate ears. He wondered whatever might have become of Mr. Young, assuming that there had been a Mr. Young. He left Samuel's card with her and did not correct her when she called him by his future brother's last name.

"So Mr. Carothers, you say a Mr. Wickham recommended my establishment to you. What a coincidence as he and …. his…. fiancé are residing here as her family negotiates her dowry, I believe that soon Miss Bennet will remove herself to her uncle's. A Mr. Gardiner, I believe – are you acquainted with him as well?"

"No, no – I am afraid I have not had the pleasure of meeting either of these two people. Mr. Wickham and I went to school together in -shire and it was then he mentioned your lovely establishment. Evans drained the amber liquid in the dainty glass Mrs. Young had poured for him. "

Well, I fear I have taken enough of your time Mrs. Young, I must return to my own lodgings. I will advise my brother of your availability, as well as your terms, and no doubt you will be hearing from him so as to confirm the dates of his travels."

Mrs. Young made as if to rise and he raised his hand to stay her. "Please, no need to see me out the door. "

With this Evans bowed and quickly left the room, quietly closing the parlour door behind him. Glancing down the wide hallway and up the stairs, he quickly ascertained that there was a large window that could easily admit a man in the room directly across from the parlour he had just exited. It appeared from the lesser quality of the furniture, this room was used for the paying guests and the parlour he had just left was for the private use of Mrs. Young. Nodding to himself, he quietly exited the front door and bounded down the steps, whistling cheerfully to himself. Yes, since Wickham is not likely to share his upcoming dowry then those lovely candlesticks adorning the mantle in the Mrs. Young's parlour should do just as well.


	3. Chapter 3

Darcy and Mr. Gardiner Visit Bettermans House **(CHAPTER 3)**

Darcy nodded curtly to Wickham ignoring the taunting sneer on Wickham's face.

"Have we heard back from the _lady's_ father," grinned Wickham satirically at the two gentleman seated across from him. Both Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Darcy stiffened at the implied insult to Lydia that was barely disguised in Wickham's voice.

"I imagine that you have heard something or you two _fine_ gentleman would not be found calling at Bettermans house."

Darcy simply stared at the man until finally discomfited by the cold glare in Darcy's eyes Wickham shifted in his seat and casting his eyes downwards, he waited quietly for one of the other two men to speak.

Mr. Gardiner cleared his voice and with quiet dignity outlined the terms which Mr. Bennet had agreed to in the overnight post that had been received only that morning. Darcy could not help but notice the relief that spread over Wickham's brow as he realized all of his monetary demands were being met. For not the first time Darcy felt complete revulsion for this man and wondered what his father could ever have seen in the younger Wickham other than being the son of his most favored steward. It disgusted him that he had had any part in assisting this rake to buy his way out of his countless debts. Darcy felt awash again with guilt that his pride had left the door open for Wickham to have the opportunity of attempting to rob another innocent girl of her virtue. If not for his pride, he would have challenged Wickham to a duel for the dishonor he had brought to his sister Georgina with his attempt to elope with her. And now he had finally succeeded in ruining the reputation of a young woman, a reckless, heedless young lady but still more deserving than this, this poor excuse for a gentleman.  
Wickham's chuckle of delight brought Darcy out of his reverie and back to the discussion about the upcoming nuptials.

"So the only thing that we now await, besides the funds to be actually placed in my hands – "

At this Darcy interrupted "No sir, you are indeed mistaken if you think the funds will be given to you directly. Mr. Bennet's steward has been instructed to seek out and pay your debtors in Meryton and Brighton according to the complete list you provided to us. Not a farthing more than what is listed on that paper shall be paid. When the debts are discharged then you will be given the sum remaining for what is left of your finance's fortune/inheritance."

Wickham glowered and protested. "But surely a small sum will be advanced to Lydia so that we can procure her wedding trousseau as well as a ring – "

Darcy spoke over him; "Good God man – do you think we are as stupid as all that. Disperse you funds for a trousseau? A ring? More like more gaming at the card tables!"

With that Darcy abruptly stood and reminded Wickham to be at his gentleman's club on the morrow. "You no doubt know the one on - St. I am staying there and will expect you at 9 sharp so that you can sign your marriage bond, given there not sufficient time for Banns.

Wickham smiled, "I would not say no to waiting for the banns to announced."

Darcy replied dryly: "I have no doubt Wickham, but I think we will proceed with the marriage bond so as to reduce the chance of you absconding once the debts are paid. I have suggested strongly to Mr. Gardiner that Mr. Bennet's steward not begin payment of your debtors until after your wedding but Mr. Gardiner did not wish to insult his future nephew by implying that you would not be gentleman enough to keep your word."

With this both Mr. Gardiner and Darcy nodded their heads and, hats in hand, left Bettermans house.

Dreading to return to his room above where Lydia was anxiously waiting to hear how much her father had advanced for her wedding dress and trousseau, Wickham signed deeply. The scene she would throw when he had to tell her that Darcy did not trust him enough to advance even a farthing! Mrs. Young was pressing him for another weeks rent and he knew that Evans had been here the night before. That pretty maid who had answered the door had been more than willing to share his description for a little kiss.

Wickham strode across the room agitatedly and found his mind wandering more and more to Mrs. Jansen. What a shame such a lovely lady should have found herself so recently widowed. Mr. Jansen had left her bereft, childless and rather well off. Wickham smiled to himself. Really – such a shame for her to be so alone. Perhaps he should offer to accompany her on her afternoon stroll. Yes, that would be a very advantageous plan. She _has_ returned every one of his smiles thus far. He checked the clock on the mantle and grabbed his coat from where he had laid it when Darcy and that old goat Gardiner had arrived. Usually Mrs. Jansen set out to walk right after two. Wickham straightened his cravat and checked the mirror conveniently placed near the front door and carefully opened it. No doubt Lydia either had her ear pressed against the door to their rooms or possibly had it cracked open - waiting to pounce on him for news. Wickham shuddered and wished for not the first time he had felt free to let her go back with Gardiner as the older man had so strongly pressed for. But he had been worried that once out of his sight, perhaps the wedding would become less appealing to feckless Lydia. One uniform was as attractive to her as another.

He hurried down the front path and out the gate where he paused in the shade of the large oak at the corner of the street. He watched the front door carefully while attempting to appear as if he was just enjoying the slight breeze that was rustling the oak leaves. Yes – there! Right on cue the front door opened. He held his breath. Please do not let it be Lydia looking for him. No – it was Mrs. Jansen. She paused to shade her eyes as she looked both ways before descending the steps.

Wickham smoothly started forward and paused at the gate as if in surprise to see the lovely Mrs. Jansen. He bowed deeply and lifted his hat just so and smiled his deepest, most charming smile.

"Why Mrs. Jansen – what a delight to encounter you by chance just now. I am heading towards Borden Street. Would you care for some company? "

Mrs. Jansen acquiesced with a blush and quick smile. "Why that would be lovely, Mr. Wickham. But where is the", she hesitated " _joyous_ young lady that is usually adorning your arm?"

Wickham sighed deeply and looked at his boots. "Sadly she is indisposed this afternoon and wished for some quiet so I have obliged her by taking a walk around the block. I fear it has been rather lonely and I would indeed take joy in having some company of the fairer persuasion."

Mrs. Jansen slipped her arm into the crook of Wickham's and they strolled away amiably.

A hand slowly parted the curtains in one of the upstairs windows and a woman's face peered through the crack for a moment and her eyes hungrily watched the couple as they strode down the sidewalk laughing and evidently enjoying each other's company. The hand pulled back and the curtains swung closed.


	4. Chapter 4

Mr. Darcy's Gentleman's club ~ 9 am sharp! (Chapter 4)

Wickham yawned silently and lazily drew his pocket watch off the bed stand. Noting it was almost eight in the morning Wickham quickly straightened up in the armchair he had fallen asleep in. He glanced at the rabble of curls poking above the blankets bunched up on the bed. He quietly sucked in his breath and reached for his jacket that lay crumpled on the floor. He shook it out, again careful to be as quiet as possible. As much as he did not desire to be late for his appointment with Darcy and that wretched uncle of Lydia's he preferred not to awaken the wrench. He had enough of her caterwauling and throwing of slippers last night when he returned from his card game on - street. If only Darcy had advanced him at least a little money, he could have bought the silly girl a bonnet or something yesterday and he would not have needed to avoid her the rest of the day in hopes of evading her inevitable tongue lashing about not having proper wedding clothes and never eating out, never being seen in the right places!

"La" he mimicked sarcastically and grimaced. Boots in hand, his coat over his shoulder Wickham silently slid out the door and gently pulled it to, leaving it just slightly ajar to avoid the click of the handle. He glanced quickly to the left and then right. His eyes gleamed. The door to Mrs. Jansen's door was partly opened. "The lady must enjoy an early breakfast he thought unless she is just trying to create a cross breeze with the door?" he wondered to himself. Swiftly he crossed the hall and peaked in the room, lightly knocking on it with the plan of asking if she would like company in the dining room below… The door swung open showing the room to be empty and Wickham quickly slid inside and was surprised to see her bed was already made. "My, my" he muttered to himself – "you are indeed an early riser Mrs. Jansen." Without another thought, his hand swept across the dressing table and slid a pair of diamond ear rings along with a delicate gold chain into the boots he had clutched in his right hand. Unable to believe his good luck Wickham turned on his heel and left the room not even bothering to close the door behind. He resisted the urge to dance a little jig and hurried down the stairs in his stocking feet. He swept into the boarders parlour and sat down in the chair behind the parlour door. He upended one of his tall leather boots and chuckled to himself as he felt the pleasant weight of the precious jewels land in his hand. Slipping both the earrings and necklace into his waistcoat pocket, his smile widened perceptibly. Quickly he pulled his boots then drew on his jacket. Satisfied with what he saw in the mirror beside the door he bounded out the front door and down the steps. He made his way quickly to the corner when he was in luck and caught a hackney coach as it was passing. Before the half hour was up he was alighting in front of Darcy's Gentleman's club. It had been a while since he had been admitted there. He wondered if Darcy would be waiting inside or if he might have to use a little of last night's winnings to convince the doorman that he was actually expected.

Hearing carriage wheels rolling up the street, he turned and saw Mr. Gardiner arriving in a postchaise. Nervously swallowing his relief at not having to deal alone with the doorman Wickham patiently waited for Mr. Gardiner to descend from his carriage. Mr. Gardiner tipped his hat lightly towards Wickham who nodded his head and the two ascended the deep gray stoned stairs to the entrance of this elegant and not unprestigious club. As they entered together it was obvious that Mr. Gardiner was awaited for as the doorman discreetly signaled them to follow him to one of the private rooms where Darcy was waiting for them both.

Darcy arose from the table he was seated behind upon which lay a pen with its nib freshly cut, a pot of black ink and a neat pile of papers. Wickham's stomach grumbled slightly in response to the pungent aroma of the fresh coffee that rose from a nearby urn of coffee. His eyes searched out the coffee and then strayed to the plate of hot sweet rolls sitting on the walnut hued buffet against the wall. he licked his lips almost imperceptibly. Despite his hunger – his eyes roamed back to the stack of papers – most of them awaiting his signature. Unconsciously, his fingers strayed to the very slight but pleasantly heavy bulge of his jacket pocket. They rested there for only a second before he offered his hand to Darcy and nodded to him with a grin of satisfaction on his face.

He glanced at the pile of papers and smiled at Darcy; "Is everything in place so that my bride to be and I may get to the nuptials soon – our boarding rooms are, how shall I say it – slightly cramped. I am looking forward to better lodgings soon. "

Darcy swallowed his irritation with the man and nodded curtly. After the briefest of handshakes possible he indicated that Wickham should be seated. He turned to his other guest and shook his hand firmly while asking: "How is Mrs. Gardiner – she is well, I trust?" Mr. Gardiner affirmed this adding. "She will rest easier once we have her niece better situated in our home so that we may reassure my brother and sister, that their daughter is safe and will be married within the week.

Darcy nodded his agreement and they both sat. Darcy signaled the manservant to serve them the rolls and coffee and the three of them began the business of signing Lydia's dowry and future away into the hands of Mr. Wickham.


	5. Chapter 5

Bettermans House – the maid's discovery **(Chapter 5)**

Lydia rolled over in the tousled bedclothes. Sunlight played through the lace curtains in the window and she dug her face deeper in the pillow in a futile attempt to hide from it. A scream suddenly pierced the air startling Lydia out of the pillow. "Wickham?!" she gasped and she peered wildly about the room. Another scream rose up the stairs followed by sobs for help.

Lydia pulled her bedclothes close to her chest and huddled up against the headboard listening…

A door nearby slammed with another one slamming right after. Footsteps thudded down the stairs.

One more scream pierced the air followed by heavy silence.

Lydia leaned forward and strained her ears to try and hear what was happening below. She could now hear voices murmuring and people flurrying about. The front door opened and closed.

Hesitatingly she slid her legs over the side of the bed and clutching the top blanket to her chest she tiptoed to the door and opened it a crack and peered through the gap. She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and opened the door a little wider. Still unable to see or hear anything of worth - she stepped out into the corridor and carefully made her way to the stairs. She glanced over her shoulder and noticed that Mrs. Jansen's door appeared to be ajar.

"La – she has beat me downstairs to see what is happening!" Determined not to miss anything that that flirt might see first, she hefted her sheet up off the floor and her toes fled down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs she paused just long enough to determine where all the activity was happening. She quickly noticed that Mrs. Young's parlour door was open when normally at this time of day it would be shut tight against nosy boarders glancing within and admiring her fine belongings. The kitchen maid was standing before the opening and was twisting her rag tightly in her hands and then pressing it against her lips, only to then twist the rag some more. Lydia thought she had never seen anyone so pale in her life.

"Lord girl! " she giggled – "You look like you have seen a ghost!"

The maid drew in her breath and covered her eyes with the tightly twisted rag.  
"Stay away: – she wavered. "Stay away. Mrs. Young has stepped out ta call one of them runners. Yer best to stay away!" she cried once more and waved the rag at Lydia as if it were a shield.

Lydia's eyes widened but determined to see what was amiss she pushed past the little maid and stopped short at the sight before her.

Crumpled on the beautiful plush emerald green rug was Mrs. Jansen. She lay face down in a dark pool of thick crimson blood. Lydia stared at the intricate pattern it made against the forest green of the rug and helplessly grabbed at the empty space before her in an attempt to save herself from falling. As she clutched the air, she watched the body fade away and the room grew black as dark circled in on itself like water down a drain. Somewhere in the distance she could hear a young voice lifting in a pitched scream.

Hands were pulling at Lydia and she struggled to fight them off. Her head ached and her mouth felt dry as bread crumbs. She felt a cold dampness on her forehead followed by a sharp acrid smell that burned her nostrils. Her eyes fluttered open and Mrs. Young was peering closely at her.

Lydia pulled back and found she couldn't as she was still lying on the floor, but now she was on the rough Scotch carpet of the guests' parlour. The young maid was still there, twisting her rag and crying; "Honest Mum, I told her not to go in, honest I did."

Lydia swiveled her head to the side and noticed a large pair of dusty black boots near her head and followed them up the black trousers to the jacketed constable that was bending over by her.

"There yer are Miss." He murmured "Let's see if we can, ummm, get yer to a chair". He glanced at Mrs. Young who hastily pulled the bed sheet entangled around Lydia up over her night dress so as to cover her more modestly.

Lydia groaned and struggled to raise herself up on her forearm. She turned to the strong constable and appealed to him.  
"Please, Constable, would you mind giving us a hand to get this lady back to her room."

His face reddened as he stared at the lightly dressed Miss Bennet. He took a deep breath and almost closed his eyes as he leaned forward and scooped Lydia up. He groaned under her dead weight and Mrs. Young hastily pushed her hand against his shoulder to steady him.

Suddenly aware of the drama of the moment, Lydia wrapped her arms around the constable's neck and hid her face in his shoulder. The shifting of her weight eased the lifting of her and the constable, with a deep breath rose and wheezed to Mrs. Young "Where would the young lady's rooms be then?"

Mrs. Young stood up and whisked her skirts around her feet and commanded him to follow her up the stairs.

With Lydia's door still open it was not too much more of a challenge to get her into her room and back upon her bed. The constable gazed down at the floor and told Mrs. Young he would meet her back down in the front parlour and made a hasty retreat to the door and closed it quickly behind him. Outside he straightened his cap and shirt, shrugged his jacket back in place and then quickly made his way back down the stairs. He would need to make a report to the local magistrate and quick like.

Mrs. Young stared at the young Lydia and shook her head.

"Lydia," she said softly. "You should have listened to Betty. Promise me now that you will stay here and rest. I'll leave Betty here with you until Mr. Wickham returns. I'll send up some more wet cloths and some arnica to try to ease that lump where you hit your head falling."

Lydia watched Mrs. Young close the door and then she turned her bruised and aching head away from the young maid that was standing there all a tremble. A tear fell from her eye and spread itself across the linen of her pillow case. She squeezed her eyes closed and winced at the effort. Another tear escaped and she whispered: "Oh La, I wish Lizzy were here."

The young maid stood by helplessly watching Lydia's shoulders shake and wished she could go to her attic room and have a good cry too. That poor, handsome Mrs. Jansen. Terrified of making a noise, Betty crammed her well worn rag against her mouth and closed her eyes to try to shut out the ugly image of that handsome woman lying still on Mrs. Young's plush rug.


	6. Chapter 6

**Longbourn – the waiting continues (Chapter 6)**

Elizabeth sat alone under the large oak tree in the back garden, her chin resting in her hand as she leaned on the arm of the bench. Just yesterday she had sat here - reading the letter from her uncle Gardiner. Although alone, the very thought of Mr. Darcy's certain reaction to the forced nuptials between Wickham and Lydia crimsoned her cheeks. And what of Bingley – surely he could no longer hope to pursue Jane – if he had indeed been considering such a thing after their meeting in Derbyshire. She was without doubt that he could not seriously consider joining his name to her family's great shame even if they could successfully cover up Lydia's misdeeds - not without losing Darcy's good opinion of him and, as Darcy had once counseled, once his good opinion was lost – it was lost forever. Never mind Darcy – _no member_ of the first circle of society would counter the idea of socializing with anyone associated with such a couple. The Bingleys would be destroyed were he to pursue and marry Jane after this disaster. His sisters would never allow this to happen.

Her heart sick and weary, she rose from her bench and slowly trailed her way to the rose garden to try and lighten her mood just a little. A light breeze played with the delicate curls that clung to the nape of her neck. She did not know if any of her sisters, not even Jane, had yet seriously considered what this had done to their futures. With Longbourn entailed away to their father's ridiculous cousin and now with any hope of marrying well completely dashed by the heedless Lydia and her lack of decorum and virtue; Elizabeth felt hopeless about their futures.  
'Oh Lydia! You thoughtless, thoughtless girl!', she murmured for not the first time to herself as she recalled the words from Lydia's letter to Mrs. Forster, Lydia's particular friend.

Her cheeks flushed hot again, but this time with anger towards her parents and how careless they had been with the schooling of her younger sisters. With great effort she pushed down her just anger and tried to turn her thoughts to the roses. She fingered the velvet blossoms and smelled the sweet odour of love that these beauties hinted at and sighed deeply. Hearing light footsteps treading behind her she turned and caught sight of Jane encumbered with a large basket. A spotless apron covered Jane's delicate sky blue muslin gown that matched her gentle eyes.

Forcing a light smile to her lips she waved to her – "What has brought you here to this delightful part of our garden, Jane?" she called.

"Mama is expecting that we will have several callers this afternoon to congratulate us on Lydia's forthcoming marriage. Certainly she expects Mrs. Lucas and Aunt Philips to drop in, as well as the vicar's wife so she has sent me to gather as many blossoms as possible so that we can make the front parlour as festive as possible in anticipation of our callers."

Elizabeth smiled wanly and then gave a low chuckle and said: "Let us hope that our own dear vicar is a little more charitable than our cousin Collins is. What was it he said in his letter: something like _her death would have been a blessing in comparison?_ Even should he feel more compassion than Mr. Collins – I am not sure that we should expect neither he, nor his wife anytime soon. My mother is deluding herself if she thinks the vicar's wife will pay a social call this early in our crisis."

Jane's countenance fell as she lowered her basket to the ground.  
"Lizzy," she countered hesitatingly. "while Father was in town, as you recall he had directed me to open all correspondence that should arrive in his absence?"

"Why yes – I do", answered Elizabeth. "And it was you that had the hapless joy of opening and reading Mr. Collin's despicable letter to us all, save Mother. Why do you ask?"

"Well," began Jane as she carefully pulled a letter out of her apron's pocket. "I have kept his letter and pursued it more than a few times and I am sorely concerned with this portion of it."

She unfolded the now well worn document she had referenced and read;

"… you are grievously to be pitied, in which opinion I am not only joined by Mrs. Collins, but likewise by Lady Catherine and her daughter, to whom I have related the affair. They agree with me in apprehending that this false step in one daughter will be injurious to the fortunes of all the others; for who, as Lady Catherine herself condescendingly says, will connect themselves with such a family. "

She raised very worried eyes and closely examined Elizabeth's countenance. "Are you in agreement with our cousin and the Lady Catherine in these thoughts…"

Despite the heat of sun glowing overhead Elizabeth felt a deep chill within as she answered Jane's unspoken fears in the affirmative;

"Yes, dearest Jane – I greatly fear that more than just Lydia's reputation has been tarnished by her nefarious actions."

Jane's gaze held her sister's eyes for a moment before she re-folded the hapless missal and slipped it back into her apron. Elizabeth bent over the basket Jane had brought out and pulled out the two pairs of shears to be found within. She fiddled with the handle of the basket for a moment before looking back at Jane so as to give her sister a moment to compose herself after sharing such an onerous opinion.

She then quietly joined Jane in the cutting of the roses and other beautiful blossoms that surrounded them. Oblivious to their beauty, Elizabeth strove to drive all thoughts of Darcy from her heart, deeply mindful as she was to the inescapable reality that it could not be supposed that Mr. Darcy would connect himself with her family where, to every other objection would now be added an alliance and relationship of the nearest kind with Wickham, a man whom he so justly scorned.


	7. Chapter 7

Bettermans house – the investigation begins chapter 7

Constable Jones remained at the foot of the stairs waiting for Mrs. Young to descend to the main floor. He would need to question the lady's maid of the dead woman to try and ascertain as to when she had last seen her employer alive. He would also need to speak to all of Mrs. Young's staff. And oh – yes – he needed to determine if there was a Mr. Jansen and, if so, – where could he be reached?

With a heavy sigh he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His boots were tight and it had been a long night, circling the various streets on his beat. If he had only he had made it to Bow street afore the confounded dead woman had been found he would already be on his way home to a hot cuppa tea, and one of his land lady's fine jam rolls and Stevenson would be dealing with this … mess.

His cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the remembrance of that luckless young female sprawled on the floor with barely a bed sheet covering her. Come to think of it, why had she been there anyway? He thought Mrs. Young said her scullery maid had discovered the dead women when she encountered him at the end of the road. Blast! Why had he dawdled at 34 – street hoping to catch a glimpse of the handsome housekeeper there. Another blush. Jones tugged at his moustache as he wondered for not the first time whether the lovely fair haired housekeeper at number 34 was married or not. Would she consider walking out with him on her day off, he asked himself for not the first time.

A gentle cough brought the constable back to the present and his head swiveled towards the owner of the light sound.

"Mrs. Young?"

"Yes?"

"I need to ask yer a few questions if yer don't mind. The magistrate will want as many details as I can possibly muster this morning. But first if yer could perhaps send one of your servants with a note ta #4 requesting that the Magistrate send the beadle ta assist me with my investigation I'd be much obliged. No doubt they'll be wantin' an inquest.

Mrs. Young paled considerably at the thought of an inquest but hopeful she could convince the magistrate to not hold it within her establishment she simply replied: "Certainly Constable. I do not engage a large household but I do have a man on the premise – he does not live in but he should be in the kitchen by now. If you will excuse me I will just step into the kitchen and suggest he run to #4 with your request."

"Very good – but before yer do, did the dea, err the … the lady in question have a ladies maid?"

"Yes, she did. She slept in the attics with my scullery maid and should also be in the kitchen. Cook was brewing her hot cup of tea – this was a huge shock to her. "

"Yes, yes – of course it would be – errr, I will need ta question her as well."

"Of course, Constable. Please sit in the breakfast room, there is fresh coffee and rolls in there and you may help yourself while I step into the kitchen. That is probably the best place for you to conduct your questioning. Normally I would invite you to wait in my parlour to answer your questions but ahh well."

"Yes! Quite, quite! That would not do right now – not at all." he blustered. ""Number 4 will dispatch the coroner with the other constable that they will send once your man arrives. The coroner will have to officially declare the ahhh, the… "

"Mrs. Jansen?" filled in Mrs. Young.

'Yes, he will have to, ummm, declare her as, ummm, well deceased…" he trailed off.

Mrs. Young waved him into the breakfast room and she gracefully slipped away towards the back of the house where the constable assumed was the kitchen. He stared wistfully after her before stepping awkwardly into the breakfast room. His eyes wandered about the room taking in the piping hot coffee urn and the mouth watering rolls nestled in a basket on the buffet against the back wall. He stared at the snowy white table cloth and fine china that adorned the dining table in the center of the room. There were six place settings, so he guessed that Mrs. Young must have six boarders… well, five now he reminded himself. Glancing backwards towards the way Mrs. Young had left – he wished for a plain wooden table dressed with simple plates and a hot mug of tea in the kitchen. Sighing heavily, he self consciously strode across the room and wrapped his large hand around a fragile coffee into which he poured a large dollop of cream from the delicate pitcher he found next to the sugar bowl. He then splashed some coffee into the cup and winced as tiny spots of black coffee spread through the fine weaving of the white table runner that covered the buffet. He glanced back at the door once more and then pulled two rolls from the basket and stared in horror as a third flipped out of the basket when he withdrew his hand from it. Quickly he snatched at it but was too late to prevent it rolling off the buffet. It rolled to stop near his dusty black boot. Surreptitiously he glanced over his shoulder and then with a slight movement of his boot, pushed the roll under the buffet. Looking every bit as ill at ease as he felt, he lowered his rolls onto the plate closet to him and then pulled the chair out with his now free hand. He lowered his rather large frame onto the delicate wooden seat of the chair and squeezed his eyes shut as he let out his breath and relaxed his full weight – waiting for the chair to crack and crumble under his considerable weight. As it did not, he leaned back against the frame and took a sip of his coffee and began to munch on the still warm rolls. While he did so he pulled out his note book and pencil from the pocket within his jacket and flipped it open so as to be ready for his first witness.

He was just draining the last drops of his coffee when Mrs. Young returned with whom he presumed was the lady's maid for Mrs… he paused in his thoughts – yes, Mrs. Jansen it was.

Constable Jones stood immediately and nodding courteously to both women he indicated with a firm nod to the other side of the table that Mrs. Young and this slip of a girl should be seated so that he could begin with his questions.

With a gentle swish of her skirts, Mrs. Young seated herself across from Constable Jones and with a gentle smile she pointed to the seat beside herself and asked Mrs. Jansen's maid to sit beside her. Nervously the young woman stared at the large man in the dark blue coat decorated with two rows brass buttons down the front of it and then glanced at the tall hat on the table beside him.

Jones sat down himself and pulling his note pad towards himself, he gave a nervous lick to the end of his pencil so as to ready himself for the answers he would be seeking.

"First", he began looking closely at the young woman in front of him. "What would yer name be please, Miss?"


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 The Investigation begins

Mrs. Jansen's maid, Nancy stared at Constable Jones as he painstakingly wrote her name down on his small pad with a well worn pencil. Once finished he lifted his eyes and gave her a baleful stare. Taking a deep breath he rubbed his large hand across his brow as if trying to draw the next question forward.

"Right then, Miss Carter – ahhh how long have, err _had_ you been in the employ of Mrs. Jansen?

Again with Mrs. Young's reassuring smile, Nancy stuttered out her reply:

"Well – I've been with her since last Christmas. Her former lady's maid did not want travel with her no more and so she, Mrs Jansen I mean Sir, she put an advert in the papers and me ma, I mean _my_ ma saw it. She knew I was going ta, _to_ need a new situation soon so she showed it to me. I applied and I was employed right away. So I guess I has, have been with her for about 18 months… Sir.

Jones scribbled an 18 on his pad and without looking up asked:

"So did Mrs. Jansen have many friends? Would you suspect any of them as likely to do this?"

Nancy stared at the Constable and her tongue wet her lips nervously. She glanced at Mrs. Young whose eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she watched the young maid's face. Nancy stared down at her hands as she squeezed her handkerchief so tightly that her knuckles whitened. She closed her eyes and almost imperceptively straightened her back. She opened her eyes and stared back at Jones.

"Sir – I don't know who might have killed her but I do know someone stole her gold necklace and her pearl ear rings. I'm thinking it must have been the same person."

Mrs. Young interrupted her with a sharp tone – "Miss Carter – that is a strong allegation to make! Are you suggesting that I run a loose household where just anyone can stroll in off the street and steal from an esteemed guests?

Mrs. Young's eyes held young Nancy's gaze in a steely grip. Nancy seemed to shrink as she stared back at her. " No Mam – no I'm not suggesting that. But the other day I saw a man leaving Mrs. Jansen's room, late in the evening. And this morning I realized some of her best pieces were missing."

An uncomfortable silence hung over the three inhabitants of the dining room.

Mr. Jones cleared his throat and with a light blush on his cheeks asked: "Is Mrs. Jansen's husband traveling with 'er? "

With a stiff back and tight voice; Mrs. Young interjected. "No- he is not. Mrs. Jansen is a widow!"

She silenced Nancy with a withering glance before Mr. Jones looked up from his pad.  
"Then just oo would this gentleman have been – leaving 'er room at such a time. Just what time was it Miss ?" He stared at Nancy."

'It was after dinner sir, I'd say it was closer to twelve than not, sir.'

He fixed a hard stare at Mrs. Young. " 'Ere then – what kind of establishment are you running with strange men exiting ladies' rooms at that late hour? And what were you doing up at that hour Miss?" He shifted his eyes from Mrs. Young to Nancy's pale countenance.

"Why that's my job Sir. I'm supposed to wait up for my mistress and then I help her to prepare to retire."

"Well, never mind then – was Mrs. Jansen in the habit of entertaining men at late hours in her rooms?"

Mrs. Young's pointed boot made direct and sharp contact with young Nancy's slim ankle. Biting her lip, Nancy nervously glanced at the ceiling, than back at Mrs. Young. Mr. Jones missed the barely perceptible shake of Mrs. Young's head.

Nancy's grip on her handkerchief tightened even more.  
"No sir – I had never seen that man in her room before sir. Though he was wearing a coat much like those gentlemen who were here calling on Mr. Wickham, sir. I guess it could have been one of them, sir."

Mr. Jone's eyes lightened while Mrs. Young appeared to relax.  
"Oh ho – and you think _he_ stole Mrs. Jansen's necklace and," he glanced at his notes, "pearl ear rings?"

Relieved to see Mrs. Young looking less hostile, Nancy readily agreed.

"Yes, sir – yes! I'm sure it was one of 'em".

He looked from Mrs. Young to Miss. Carter.

"Well – go on" – he prompted them. "Tell me more about these two gentleman callers you say were in 'er room. Though what she were doing with TWO men in her room…" He shook his head doubtfully.

Nancy's eyes widened as she gasped. "Oh NO sir – not two men in 'er, her room. No, no! I said that the man that I saw was wearing a coat like one of gentleman that were here yesterday morning to see Mr. Wickham."

The constable began to scrawl the name on his pad, not noticing the tightening in Mrs. Young's face.

"Now oo is Mr Wickham?", he asked looking pointedly at the home's owner.

Mrs. Young's back straightened even more than it seemed possible and she glared at the Constable.

"He is one of my esteemed guests. ' she replied crisply.

"Right – well, I'll be needing to speak to him after you ladies describe the coat this 'ere gentleman caller was wearing in Mrs. Jansen's room. "

Nancy opened her mouth as if to correct Mr. Jones and was quickly overridden by the mistress of the house.  
"Nancy, please go and rouse Miss Bennet. Mr. Jones will no doubt need to chat with her after I finish describing the guests that were here yesterday. My kitchen maid is with her right now – and I really need Betty to get back to her duties. As you no longer have an employer – perhaps you can busy yourself by helping Miss Bennet to get ready." Her deep brown eyes eyed young Nancy coldly as she quickly rose to follow Mrs. Young's directive.

As Nancy closed the door behind her she could hear Mrs. Young voice as she filled the constable's ears with the details of the fashionable wear that the two male callers had been attired in the day before.


	9. Chapter 9

Lydia held a small looking glass in her left hand while her right glided over the bundle of curls Nancy had twisted together on the back of her head. She moved the glass here and there as she stared quizzically at the image caught within its frame.

A big smile spread across her face as she sprung from her dressing chair.

"Yes, Nancy – this is JUST perfect! It'll do just fine for my meeting with, who did you say wanted to talk with me? And then when Wickham gets back ,he can take me to luncheon. We've been stuck in this old house for ever so long and I _really_ need to get out and be seen and to see others! I _must_ have some jolly stories to impress my sisters with when Wickham and I return to Longbourn as a married couple. Lord! Won't that be fun when I cast "Miss Jane" to her lower spot as an unmarried woman while I, Lydia…"

A sharp rap on her door interrupted her rapturous imaginations and she swiveled to look at Nancy – "Well, get the door - don't just stand there."

Before Nancy could respond the door opened and Mrs. Young strode in with a look of authority stamped on her face, that same look that frequently cowed Lydia but failed to do so this morning.

"Pardon me, Mrs. Young but what do YOU want?

"The constable is ready to talk with you – he is below waiting in the dining room. "

"What? Why is he not waiting on me here, why must I go to _him_? " queried Lydia sulkily.

Mrs. Young stifled a sigh as she asked herself yet again how in the world Wickham had managed to tie himself up with such an unschooled, unmannered chit!

She replied, her voice laced with restraint; "Miss Bennet, it is entirely inappropriate for a man to visit you within your rooms. This is why we have a visitors parlour!"

"Then why doesn't he visit me there?" pouted Lydia.

"Because this is _not_ a social call." Mrs. Young retorted through tight lips.

Lydia opened her mouth to respond and snapped it shut when Mrs. Young exclaimed.  
"Please Miss Bennet, just go down to the dining room now. The sooner you do this, the sooner we will have this unpleasant event over and done with and get the constable out of my house."

Lydia spun on her heel and all but stomped her way out of the room and down the stairs, leaving Mrs. Young glaring at her back. Pulling her shoulders back the Mistress of Betterman's house tersely instructed Nancy.  
"I suggest you make yourself useful and,' she glanced about the dark, stuffy room littered with used dishes and stray pieces of feminine wear, "clean this mess up."

With a hard glitter in her eye, she held Nancy's gaze and again reminded her;  
"You have found yourself suddenly unemployed and we both know with your background, the chances of landing yourself another position as a lady's maid is next to none – even if your mistress hadn't been murdered. You simply haven't the references to be accepted in a home of any superior standing. If you can make yourself useful here, and keep your mouth shut, I might, just might, allow you stay here and help with the upkeep of these rooms and possibly help some of the other lady guests. Do you understand?"  
Nancy nodded numbly and immediately set to picking the various stockings strewn across the bed and floor from Lydia's frantic search for clean ones. Satisfied she had Mrs. Jansen's former maid where she needed her, Mrs. Young left the room, quietly closing the door behind herself.

Mr. Jones and Lydia meet again….

After stomping down the stairs, Lydia found herself staring at the dining room door and heard on the other side of it the tinkle of the china against china. She tried to peer through the tiny slit and could just barely make out a rather large man who was obviously dressed in the uniform of a runner.  
A runner? A common place runner was going to question her? She tilted her chin up and made as if to push the door open but then hesitated. Should she knock first? What would Lizzy do? Oh to hang what Lizzy would do, she decided, as she pushed the door open with such force that it slammed against the wall.

Mr Jone's stood swiftly and gave her a quick nod which Lydia barely acknowledged as she struggled to regain her composure and shut the heavy door.

"Miss Bennet we meet, ah again."

"Again?"

Mr. Jones faced reddened slightly at the memory of Lydia sprawled unconscious on the floor of the visitors parlour where she had been found earlier this morning.

The constable cleared his throat and pulled at the hem of his jacket, before indicating that Lydia be seated across from him.

Lydia sat.

As Constable Jones rearranged himself precariously on the slight dining room chair, he pulled his notes toward himself and then looked back at his rather valuable witness that he currently had on hand.

"Now then, Miss Bennet, I believe you are acquainted with a Mr. Wickham who 'ad a couple of gentlemen callers, 'ere, yesterday morning."

Lydia gushed "well of course I am well acquainted with Mr. Wickham. George and I are li –" Lydia paused. "We are engaged to be married and have applied for a special license." She hesitated as if waiting for him to be in awe of this information.

Glancing back at his notes, it was as if the constable had not even heard her.

"So now could you describe those men who called on your finance." he asked.

"Why do you want to know what Mr. Darcy and my uncle Mr. Gardiner look like?" demanded Lydia crossly. "What could that possibly matter?"

Mr. Jones leaned forward eagerly "Oh it matters a great deal, young lady, it matters quite a bit. So if you please – could you describe the gentlemen for me."

Heaving a heavy sigh and rolling her eyes, Lydia shared that she thought that Mr. Darcy was quite a tall fellow while her uncle was really closer in height to her father…

"No, no, no! I don't mean their physical appearance, I mean what were they wearing?"

"Goodness! I don't _know_. Why ever would I know what my uncle and Mr. Darcy were wearing. I never even saw them that day. In fact, I was purposely trying _not_ to see them as my uncle was trying to get me to move to his house and…

Mr. Jones interrupted her with a heavy sigh. "Right then, if you didn't see them yesterday when did you last see them?"

"The day before, when my Uncle Gardiner came to plead with me to move into his home," she replied pettishly. "He's ever such a killjoy! And my aunt!" She clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes.

"Yes, yes, never mind all that girl! What colour is your uncle's over coat?"

"I don't know!"

"Could it be green, a 'ow, did she call it?", he glanced at his notes and then stared at her seriously – "a forest green?"

"Heavens no", returned Lydia sharply."Don't be ridiculous. Mr. Gardiner in a hunters green coat? Mr. Darcy wears such a coat, but my uncle?" She snickered. "I can't imagine him in anything but brown or black!"

Mr. Jones smiled wolfishly. "So then you are saying that your uncle definitely was NOT wearing forest green and most likely was wearing a black overcoat. "

"Yes, I suppose so!" Replied Lydia carelessly.

She leaned back in her chair and began to rove her eyes about the room, clearly bored with the questioning as well as Mr. Jones.

"Can I go now? Are you finished with talking to me? I've really very important things to – Wickham and I are going out to lunc-"

"Yes, yes!" Mr. Jones gestured impatiently at her to remain sitting and eagerly leaned forward.

"So you are certain your uncle wears a black over coat."

Lydia yawned effectually and said "I suppose" so and slumped even more in her chair.  
What difference could it possibly make what colour coat my uncle or the hundreds of men in town wear?"

"Because, young lady, a man was seen leaving Mrs. Jansen's room late last night and he was wearing a black over coat. And more importantly: some of her jewels are missin'." He slapped his hand down hard on the dining room table sending the find china cup rattling in its saucer and startled Lydia out of her boredom.

Lydia stared at him for a second and then began to chortle! "My uncle - Mr Gardiner and Mrs… Mrs Jansen?"

Mr. Jones stiffened. "It's no laughing matter young lady. Once I find the man in that coat _with_ the missing jewels I will have my man. Please go and find Mrs. Young for me, I need to determine if she knows where Mr. Wickham is and once he confirms.. "

"You don't need Mrs. Young for that information. My Wickham is meeting right now, as we speak, with both my uncle and Mr. Darcy. They are at Mr. Darcy's Club on - Street. "

The constable pushed back his chair and excitedly grabbed at his notes, stuffing them inside his coat while he pulled on his hat.

"Right then, no time to lose, please give my goodbyes to Mrs. Young. Good bye then Miss… Miss ahhh

"Bennet!" Lydia helpfully supplied for him. She was relieved to know she could finally return to her room and finished preparing for her outing with Wickham. She watched the Constable eagerly depart from the dining room and then, pushing her chair back, followed him out.

 ** _AUTHOR'S NOTE:_**

Many thanks to my loyal readers and commenters. I have taken the many comments to heart and appreciate them all. I hope to follow this chapter with another chapter that is most likely to be short because of the nature of events that it will reveal.

Then I will most likely not publish for at least two weeks due to a trip out of the country, thought I will be writing while I am gone, so as not to keep you all waiting too long once I get home.

Thank you again for reading my story! (PS I accidently deleted this chapter after publishing it this afternoon - so took the opportunity to add this note and make a couple of important corrections. My apologies for the fact that you most likely get two notices of a new chapters! Sadly there was no going back after I hit the delete button! BLUSH!)


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: An Arrest Is Made**

Jones seized the front door handle when a movement in the parlour next to the foyer caught his eye. Without thinking he continued to twist the handle and pull the door open while glancing simultaneously over his shoulder. Blast, he swore to himself as he caught a glimpse of the coroner walking about the room, peering closely at the body still lying in front of the fireplace. _I can't leave without avin' a word with the govner in there._

Reluctantly he closed the door and swiveling on his heel, headed into Mrs. Young's private parlour.

"Good Morning, Sir."

Jones nodded his head respectfully in his direction and the Coroner did likewise.

"Rather an unpleasant way to start my day Jones, getting interrupted at the breakfast table. Had to leave everything all sixes and sevens. This is a rather ghastly scene – not sure I have any appetite for breakfast now. Once we've finished here, I'll have to nip back. My first patient is scheduled for just after luncheon."

Ignoring his rumbling stomach, a spot of tea and a roll was not his customary breakfast, Jones reluctantly agreed with his superior.

"So I suppose there will be an inquest, then sir?" he queried politely, averting his eyes from the beautiful but lifeless body.

"Quite, quite! I need only to decide where to have it, I don't suppose there is a pub nearby where I could convene it, I'll need a room to accommodate anywhere from 15 to 25 men." He glanced about the parlour and shook his head. "Definitely not a big enough space to do it here. No workhouse nearby, eh?"

"There is one about two miles out, sir. Ahhh – in regards to the uh… body?"

"Hmmm, oh right – perhaps you can let Mrs. Young know she can have her manservant move the body back to her room for preparation for the funeral. Has the victim's family been notified?"

With that question, Jones realized just how deftly Mrs. Young had stepped aside from answering his question as to the where abouts of the victim's husband and he decided to follow suit.

"I believe the funeral will take place here, sir. If you are not needing me anymore here sir – I believe I have a strong idea who the thief might be and I mus…"

"THEIF? I thought we were just dealing with a murder here? Blast man – what else has happened?"

Jones quickly filled him in on the details of the missing jewelry and his thoughts that one of the men visiting her earlier in the week might have been the thief but neglected to pass on his thoughts about the murderer and thief being one and the same. He didn't want to spoil the glory of the moment should he be able to, as the saying went, 'kill two birds with one stone'.

The corner flipped a pence in the direction of Jones; "Here man, grab yourself hack chaise and hie yourself over to the club and see if one of these gentlemen has those jewels on them. Won't look good in the papers if we let both a thief _and_ a murderer get away."

Jones snatched eagerly in the air at the coin, caught it and deftly slipped it into his coat pocket before leaving. Once outside he bounded down the steps, hurried to the corner and caught the first empty hack chaise passing. As the wheels of the carriage rumbled their way to the gentleman's club Jones wondered if his name would be included in any reports in the paper about this crime and if that might improve his chances with the cook next door. Surely someone in the downstairs servants' quarters could read and would mention it to her. A foolish grin spread across his face as the carriage pulled up and he leaped down. He straightened his coat and assumed a grave expression before preparing to talk his way in through the front door of the club. If he were not so worried about one of his suspects leaving while he made his way in through the customary means of entering through the servants back door he would not be bothered to go through this effort.

He pulled himself up to his full height intending to use every inch of it to bolster his demands to see Mr. Darcy "h'mediatly!"

Darcy was carefully going over each piece of parchment that Wickham had applied his signature to while Wickham himself sipped on his third cup of fresh coffee and happily consumed his fourth roll. Mr. Gardiner looked on with apparent disgust of Wickham's gluttony. Unexpectedly, loud voices carried through the heavy oak door of their private room and Darcy looked up in surprise and irritated concern. Mr. Gardiner's eyes also shifted toward the angry voices. Wickham simply kept chewing his roll.

Darcy made a soft noise of disgust and swiveled in his chair just as the door jerked open and a red faced manservant pushed through behind a very large man dressed in a heavy blue jacket. This caught Wickham's attention but he quickly checked himself and looking unconcerned, leaned back casually. He took a long draw at his coffee cup and coughed suddenly, dropping the china cup. His left arm shot out wildly and grasped Mr. Gardiner's shoulder while his other hand searched wildly as if looking for a napkin or handkerchief.

Mr. Gardiner pulled his eyes away from the disturbance at the door and stared at Wickham with not a little concern.

"Good Lord, Wickham! Whatever is the matter?"

Perspiration beaded across Wickham's forehead and he gratefully accepted Mr. Gardener's handkerchief and leaned over the table, his hand clutching his chest. His hand once more grabbed Mr. Gardeners in an attempt to stand and Mr. Gardiner was pulled toward Wickham. Wickham leaned in close to Mr. Gardener as he hoarsely whispered; "Water!"

However, as Mr. Gardener attempted to stand to get it, Wickham leaned even more deeply into Mr. Gardiner and then as suddenly as the choking fit started, it passed. Wickham wiped his lips with the initialized hankie and then began to stuff it in his vest pocket and waved Mr. Gardiner away.

"Excuse me, Wickham…" declared Mr. Gardiner with a slight look of disgust on his face. "That would be my handkerchief you are stowing away in your pocket!"

"Oh, right you are.", replied Wickham who appeared to need to struggle to get the hankie back out of his vest and once freed he leaned over and stuffed it deeply into Mr. Gardiner's vest pocket, pushed his chair back from the table and walked away from it. With Wickham seeming to be fully recovered from this choking fit, Mr. Gardiner turned his eyes towards Darcy who was in deep discussion with the manservant and what appeared to be a common runner or what was it the papers had been calling them of late – Constable?

"Just what is the meaning of this?' Darcy barked in a cold crisp voice that brought the Constable up short. Jones bowed towards the man who was clearly in charge of this meeting and pulled his arm out of the manservant's grasp.

"Sir!" answered Jones. "I am here investigating a theft _and murder_ that took place at the residence of a Mr. Wickam whom I understand is in a meeting here with you."

"Murder?" muttered Wickham as he glanced wildly at both Darcy and Gardiner both of whom looked as shocked as Wickham.

Jones pushed on, oblivious to their reactions. "My interviews have lead me to believe that one of these two gentlemen' he jabbed his finger at Wickham and Mr. Gardiner, "was seen leaving the room of the murdered woman late on the evening of which she was murdered. Based on the description of the colour of that gentleman's coat it is my strong belief that one of these two men is the culprit and I wish to examine the contents of their pockets!"

Darcy's eyes squinted as he looked at Wickham.

"Wickham – empty your pockets immediately!"

Wickham threw up his arms in protest. "Oh come now, Darcy, surely you are not going to accuse me of being a common thief now are you?"

"Empty your pockets now!" Darcy insisted.

His face as innocent as a lamb, Wickham pulled out his room key and a few coins clattered onto the table.

The Constable strode across the room and glancing at the scant items on the table, he demanded that Mr. Gardiner empty his pockets.

"Here now", complained Darcy, "surely you are not accusing this good man!"

Wickham gave a derisive snort while murmuring 'Ha but you jolly well accused me, Darcy!"

Mr. Gardiner shrugged. "Darcy, I might as well empty my pocket and let this constable get on with his duties." He reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a pound note, his penknife and a few coins.

The Constables eyes narrowed at the sight and then lighted on Mr. Gardiner's vest where he noted that the pocket bulged much more than it should.

"Ere then", the constable growled. "What 'ave you got in your vest pocket… Sir!?"

Mr. Gardiner's eye's widened at the biting tone in the man's voice and his cheeks reddened at the implied accusation. His neck stiffened as he replied – "My handkerchief!", and just barely refrained from adding imbecile to his answer.

"Well, let's 'ave a look at this 'ere hankerchief then!" commanded Mr. Jones.

Darcy stepped between the two men "See here now!' he snapped. "Mr. Gardiner is a very respectable gentleman and my guest, while you are simply a runner, a night watchman. Mind how you speak before I have you expelled from here. "

Mr. Jones puffed his chest out even more before answering Darcy.

"Sir, I am here on the authority of the Coroner."

Darcy stared at him. "The coroner? He actually sent you here?"

"Yes sir, and if you please sir I need to see what your friend has in 'is vest pocket."

Darcy heaved a heavy sigh.

"My apologies, Mr. Gardiner. Let us just humour the man so that we can get this wretched paperwork finished so we can move on with getting the nuptials over and done with!" With this he glared at Wickham who shamelessly shrugged his shoulders while popping the remnants of yet another roll into his mouth.

Nodding his acquiescence, Mr. Gardiner pulled at the corner of the handkerchief that was peeking out his vest pocket and as it unfolded a slight gold chain unfolded with it while two ear rings sparkled as they hit the ground and bounced under the table.

The room filled with silence.

Wickham noiselessly finished chewing, his roll and swallowed while staring at the gold chain now dangling from Mr. Gardiners shaking fingers.

Mr. Jones reached forward and flipped the corner of the handkerchief up and read the finely embroidered letters on it.

"Would those be your initials, then Sir? He asked bruskly.

'Yes they are, my wife… my wife… "

Darcy placed his hand on Mr. Gardiners shoulder. "Say no more. Mr. Gardiner. We do not need to share any more information with this man."

Darcy then whirled on the constable and demanded: "Enough of these charades. What is your name and who do you answer to?"

"Jones, sir and I answer to the magistrate, as you well know. And I will be arresting this 'ere gentleman for the theft of these 'ere jewels as were stolen from the rooms of Mrs. Young as well for 'er murder… sir."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11 Shocking News

Elizabeth sat in the warmth of the summer sun and felt the easy breeze as it swept through her curls and lightly lifted the ribbon that marked her last spot in the book she had been trying to read. But try as she might she could not distract herself from the nervous anticipation of news that the nuptials between Lydia and Wickham had finally been completed. She could not understand the delay. Meanwhile the incessant arguing between her mother and father made her head ache. Her mother was determined that Wickham and Lydia must be received into the household. And she wanted a large reception along with new wedding clothes for all her daughters to help celebrate the wonderful news of her first married daughter with her neighbours. Her father was steadfastly refusing. He had declared that not a farthing more would be spent of the careless child, never mind allowing her to actually dine with her "husband" under his roof – not while he lived! Of course, that unfortunate comment had brought her mother's anger directly to bear on Elizabeth for how could she have spurned the offer of marriage from Mr. Collins and thus saved her mother from potential homelessness. Then, of course her mother's nerves gave cause for her to burst into tears and need to retire to her room. Elizabeth sighed. This was one of the very few times she found herself in agreement with her mother though. However, she had yet to attempt to try and make her father see that in order to shake-off the odor of a shot gun wedding that threatened to perfume the local gossip, he must accept his newly married daughter and her husband into his home for at least a family wedding luncheon. Of course a reception was out of the question – they could not go so far as all that – but a family wedding meal was definitely needed if they wished ….

Elizabeth's thoughts were broken into by the voice of their housekeep, Mrs. Hill, calling her name. Alarmed that her mother was once more in hysterics but worse than the usual, she arose from her seat and hurried towards Mrs. Hill's voice.

"What is it, Hill? She inquired as soon as she was close enough to her to not need to shout her response to harassed housekeeper."

"Oh Miss Elizabeth there has been another express and your mother has had another case of the vapours. I had Nancy help your mother to her rooms and your father wishes for you come immediately."

Elizabeth hurried her steps to match the housekeeper as she rushed return to the house.  
"Whatever was the express about Hill – have you any idea at all?"

"No, Miss. I have not an idea but never have I seen your father look so shocked – not even the night that we received news of, of well of Miss Lydia. I felt it was best I come get you and not send one of the younger maids to fetch you. Miss Bennet has gone to your mother and your younger sisters are with your father in his library but he refuses to say a word until you have returned."

"Very well, Hill. Please see to my mother so that Jane may join us as well – and I will go immediately to my father."

Mrs. Hill paused to allow Elizabeth to pass through the entrance first and there they parted ways. Elizabeth to the library and Mrs. Hill up the stairs to Mrs. Bennet and Jane.

Elizabeth entered the library and was appalled at the pallor of her father's normally robust features.

"Lizzy, my dear Lizzy! He gasped as he waved a letter in her direction. She strode quickly across the room and was quickly scanning the hastily scrawled epistle that she barely recognized as her Aunt Gardiner's writing when Jane breathlessly entered the room.

Elizabeth gasped and grabbed the back of the chair closest to herself in an attempt to steady herself on her feet.

"Father?" she queried, "can this be true? Our Uncle Gardiner has been arrested? Under the charge of MURDER?"

It was all too much for Jane who silently slipped of her chair in a faint. Kitty began to cry and Mary simply sat owl eyed – for once seemingly speechless.

Mr. Bennet and Lizzy both grabbed at Jane and Lizzy snapped at Kitty "STOP that useless crying and go get Mama's salts. Mary - make yourself useful. Go get some cool water and a cloth. HURRY - both of you foolish, foolish girls, HURRY!"

Elizabeth felt her father's hand firm on her shoulder – "Easy daughter. Tis a shock for us all." He groaned slightly as he helped Elizabeth ease her sister into a sitting position."

Elizabeth whispered to her father; "You look as though you could use a stiff drink yourself Papa!"

"Yes, yes I could." He answered dryly, a little of his usual vigor returning to his voice.

"Your Aunt Gardiner asks in the letter that you come immediately to help her with the children and I believe your mother's other brother will engage an attorney for your Uncle Gardiner. As soon as we get some calm established in this household you must prepare to leave for town; though I begin to fear that our home will ever know peace again, my dear Lizzy.' Heavily sighing he added; "I have only myself to blame for this. No – please. Do not disagree. We both know that you were right when you warmed me of the folly of allowing Lydia to go to Brighton. "

Mary and Kitty collided in the doorway and the cold water Mary had brought ended all in her own face but Kitty managed to retain the container of salts and passed them to Lizzy. While Mary stood gasping from her unexpected cold bath, Elizabeth passed the salts under Jane's nose bringing her back to consciousness.

Jane grasped her sisters hand. "Lizzy! Did I hear right?"

'Shhhhh, Jane. Rest a minute – you have had a bad shock." Elizabeth smiled wanly. "We've all had a shock. I'm not surprised Mother's nerves were unable to handle this news. Here, Kitty, assist me with helping Jane back onto her chair."

Once Jane was settled, Lizzy turned to her father. "I think the three of us could do with a small glass of wine. Mary you had best go change your clothes and Kitty please go assist Mrs. Hill with Mother."

Kitty opened her mouth as if to protest but her father spoke unusually sternly. "Kitty, do as your sister suggested. There look, Mary is already on her way out, please follow her." He raised his hand to halt her response. "Kitty. Now! Please. _Go_ and close the door behind you."

As the door clicked shut behind Kitty's stiff back Elizabeth passed a glass of wine to Jane and another to her father before pouring herself a generous portion.

She edged herself onto the armchair situated by the large window behind her father's desk. "So my Aunt Gardiner wishes that I travel to town to be with her. Will you be alright, Father, if I follow her wishes?"

"Yes Lizzy. Jane and I will cope with your mother's 'nerves". No doubt your Aunt Philips and Lady Lucas will be by soon enough.

Lizzy made an impatient sound and darted a glance at Jane. Jane nodded her understanding.

"Yes Lizzy – I agree we should probably try to encourage Mary to take tea with them when they come. I will attend to Mama and have Kitty assist me. I think you are hoping we can contain this news until we know more?" she asked more than stated.

Finishing her last sip of the deep red wine, Lizzy rose from her seat and looked at her father. "With your permission sir, I will start my packing now and be ready to travel by first light tomorrow. "

Her father nodded his agreement. "I will speak to Mrs. Hill so that she can prepare for one of our footmen to travel with you to town. I'll see to it that James has the carriage ready first thing for you. Once in Meryton you can hire a carriage the rest of the way to town."

Elizabeth touched her father lightly on the shoulder as she passed him and he patted her hand gently. Jane arose and nodding to her father, asked Elizabeth if she would like help with her packing.

"Yes, Jane, thank you. We have much to discuss and little time to converse."

Upstairs in her room Elizabeth rang for the maid she and Jane shared. "Susan, please check in the laundry for the items of clothing I had laundered yesterday and prepare them for packing. I will be in town for possibly several weeks with my Aunt Gardiner."

"Very Good, Miss Elizabeth. Will you be wanting your best and second best dresses for any possible dances or perhaps an evening at the opera?"

Elizabeth hesitated. H _ow likely was she to participate in anything beyond a quiet stroll in the nearby park with her younger cousins and aunt? And even if this was not such an impossible situation - what with her new found… respect… for Darcy how likely was she to want to dance with any other partner than him?_ She heaved a heavy sigh as the weight of the realization of how much further this new crisis must push Darcy away despite his apparent continued regard for her. Regardless, her family must continue the façade that other than her sister's unforeseen wedding to Wickham, all was good in the Bennett household.  
"Yes Susan. Please pack those, as well as my best gloves and dance slippers. Oh, and please retrieve my copy of the Common Prayer book from the library so that I may have it for Sunday services while I'm in town. "

"Very well Miss." Her maid curtsied and Elizabeth nodded her dismal of the maid.

She turned to Jane and smiled at the air of confusion on her pale feature.

"Why Lizzy surely you don't expect – Oh!" The confusion cleared from her countenance as she realized the meaning of Elizabeth's answer to their maid's question. "Yes, I see. It is important we try to make this trip seem like a normal town visit.

"Yes," replied Lizzy. "Truly – it would only be natural that I visit town when our sister is there to celebrate her nuptials? Would it not?"

Jane nodded her agreement and they both fell into their own personal reveries as Lizzy sat down and pulled quill and paper towards herself on her little desk. She held the quill loosely in her right hand as she lost herself in the memories of the daily walks on the grounds of Rosings Park where she had frequently came upon Darcy – which she now realized were not the accidental meetings she had once believed them to be. She found herself strolling through the park on - street and there was Darcy, strolling alongside of her… _NO! That would not do. Clearly she had lost that chance with Lydia's careless folly_! Besides, she had left Darcy behind in Pemberley with his sister. However could she think she would meet him in town, let alone that he would be free to acknowledge her even if they did meet accidentally. She shook her head crossly and put her pen down.

Turning away from her desk, she interrupted Jane's contemplations; "Now Jane, about Father and his intentions of not allowing a wedding luncheon. I had hoped to discuss the importance of allowing them to dine here on at least one occasion so as to dispel all appearances of an elopement and possibly... Elizabeth blushed "and the possible loss of her virtue beforehand. You will have to take this on, dear as I will now be in town for who knows how long."

Together they began to discuss their strategies. It would not be long before their maid returned and this matter must be worked out beforehand.


End file.
